


Hair

by HK44



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, Fluff, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HK44/pseuds/HK44
Summary: To the tune of a YouTube playlist, Hazel settled on a French braid. Then French twist. Then twin braids.Clipping a barrett against Nico's bangs, she took a step back. She took a dozen photos on her phone (specially heiroglyphed by Walt to stop alerting monsters) then smiled down at them, giggling at the dramatic faces he'd done while he set about undoing the braids
Kudos: 34





	Hair

Nico leaned against Hazel's legs. She was trying to braid his hair. Unlike Sadie's, his had a better chance of locking, but not by much, so after four cornrows and two reattempts on the fifth, she gave up and looked up some hairstyles for "white people hair". Partly because she wanted to try something new and partly because she didn't want Sadie to get left out the next time everybody sat down and did their hair together.

To the tune of a YouTube playlist, she settled on a french braid. Then French twist. Then twin braids.

Clipping a barrett against his bangs, she took a step back. She took a dozen photos on her phone (specially heiroglyphed by Walt to stop alerting monsters) then smiled down at them, giggling at the dramatic faces he'd done while he set about undoing the braids

He remembered late nights doing this with Bianca, before Westover, before the casino, when life was quiet even in the thunders of a war. At least it wasn't one he was meant to fight in.

"Victory rolls?" He paused the video as Hazel stepped back to him and looked down.

She snorted. "Oh,  _ this _ will be easy." She pressed play but even as the video restarted he knew she'd pay it no mind.

"Go nuts," he said.

Hazel began combing out his hair again. "Do you remember these?"

He nodded. "Yes."

His mother favoured victory rolls. She preferred them to frame her face. She rarely ever wore them out and about or while dancing on stage, but privately she would do them up with her makeup, start a record and gently prance around the room to his and Bianca's awe. Like her life, her beauty was private.

He could appreciate that.

He wondered if that was one of the reasons his father fell for her. Aside from the rebellion she played with - sneaking out late at night to dance for the public, using a fake name, swindling men - he wouldn't have been surprised if privacy, the way she clung to it, danced between that and freedom, was a spiraling staircase his father tripped and fell forward  into, tumbling down and into her waiting arms.

He already knew it was why Persephone had.

"She was what I used to want to be," she'd said once, turning him around so she could see his shirt from the back before stripping it off him quickly and grabbing another off the rack. "Trapped in a house, overbearing family, yearning for a life of her own. I was already gone the moment I saw her and then I found out about this, this secret life she had and I was pretty much sank from there." She clicked her tongue, looking down at a pile of moccasins and sandals. "Really upset me that she liked your father more."

Nico had laughed at that and in response, she'd made him wear a crown of lilies for the rest of the shopping outing. Not that it seemed necessary given he didn't want to be there anyway. But the stories were nice.

They weren't all about the life he used to have. Some were about the twists of myths, the difference between public belief and what happened. Some were about the things she did during the summer, when she wasn't able to return and her letters home were the only sanctuary she had, aside from her brother who refiled her with pictures of her children and hastily made shots of her naked husband.

He was very grateful Persephone decided not to show him those. Even if she had realized that it probably wasn't best at the last possible minute.

Gods.

Such voyeuristic perverts.

"Do you want them to frame or to top?" Hazel turned his chair around and squatted. Well, as much as someone who was already basically at chair height could squat. She squinted at him bitterly, like she knew what he was thinking.

"My mother liked to frame," he said. He shrugged. "It's up to you though. You're the one styling it."

She bit her lip. "Asymmetrical?"

He shrugged again. "Sounds good."

She smiled softly. "Yeah." Her eyes roamed his face, fingers stroking through his hair again. "You'll look cute."

"I'm always cute."

She snorted. "White people," she sighed, spinning him around. "You and your unearned confidence."

"I think it's more… Italian vanity."

Choking on a laugh, she jerked over his shoulder and giggled into his neck. He beamed, twisting his face to kiss her cheek. She pulled back, still laughing and began to part his hair.

The seconds ticked by in steady silence. As she began to backcomb his hair, he asked, "Did you want to style professionally when you were younger?"

The question didn't phase her. With others? Maybe. With him? Never.

There was something calming about that.

He never felt out of place with her.

"No," she said. "I mean, I did enjoy it but it was something I did with my friends for fun. I was never looking to get  _ good _ at it. Besides, salons were so creepy to me." She sniffed. "I hate smalltalk."

He laughed, tilting his head back as she guided it. "Did you ever work on hair like mine or just other afro curly little girls?"

She paused. "Hmmm. That is a good question." On the screen, he could see her cock her head as she thought. "I mean there were the mixed girls, the ones just a shade too dark to pass. And then the Hispanic girls. And, of course, the Native girls. But I don’t remember spending much time with them. Maybe a couple times? But definitely not more than once." Her brows furrowed. "I mean, I was the cursed child." She shrugged. "And I was black. The less you mingled with us, the better off you were."

"Double whammy of a child."

"Big time," she laughed. "I think that's why I liked Sammy so much. He was never nervous about spending time with me. Even if it did hurt him in the long run at school."

Nico thought about his past. "I  _ think _ my mother had a black chauffeur once we moved to the US."

Hazel clicked her tongue. "Racist."

“That may have been Than though.” Nico’s brows furrowed.

“And the racism increases.” Hazel kissed the top of his head. “You’re so lucky I like you anyway, white boy.”

“How is that an increase?” he protested.

“You can’t tell the difference between one black man and another?” She bonked the top of his head with her comb. “Racist.”

“Hazel-”

“ _ Racist _ .”

He huffed, rolling his eyes and grinning back when he caught her smile in the light of the screen.

“Did you go to school?” She began rolling his hair up. “You never mention it. Do you remember?”

“Um… Sunday school?” He bit his lip. “I think… I was homeschooled.”

“Rich boy,” she muttered.

He laughed. “Actually, I think Macaria used to teach us.”

Distantly, he could remember that. His oldest sister and her constant smiles. Talking to him. Workpapers. Biance’s groaning.

He was good at math.

She liked science.

“Oh my fucking goodness,” Hazel huffed. “Our father has all these children and specializes the white Italians. The damn racism. I cannot believe.”

He giggled. “In all fairness, I’m pretty sure our mother demanded he help. What did your mother ask for again?” He titled his head up and to the side to catch her glaring eyes. “The opposite of that?”

“Bitch, don’t you start with me.” She pinned his hair into place. “I’ll fuck you up.” She squeezed his shoulder and began working on the second roll. “No, I don’t think he loved my mom like he did yours. Your love story is romantic and sweet. Mine is… summoning, which just sounds like entrapment.”

“You make Dad sound like a demon.”

“Is the Underworld not basically Hell?”

“The devil  _ is _ a white man.”

“Damn fucking straight,” she laughed. She pinned the second roll and sat back down, leaning her chin on his shoulder. “My mom was complicated.”

He looked at her. “Do you miss her?”

She shook her head. “Not really.  I’ve had time to process and get over it, you know? And...” She paused. “Well, i t’s like… that was my life  _ then _ . And this is my life  _ now. _ She doesn’t have much of a place in it now. But she’s still safe. Where she is. So I’m happy about that.”

“If you couldn’t have Elysium, I’m glad you got a second shot.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Thanks for giving it to me,” she said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before whispering, “ _ White boy _ .”

“I say sweet things to you and you betray me.” He swatted her as she leaned back into her chair, safely avoiding his hands. He spun around. “I let you mess around with my hair and you betray me. So rude. How dare you. Never speak to me again.”

She giggled. “Wait, wait, wait.” She picked up her phone. “Let me get a picture!”

“The betrayal I am feeling and you  _ ask me? For a photo? _ ” He pointed at her. “Disgusting behaviour. Reprehensible. The worst of our father’s children by far.” He stood up and sat on the desk, posing like he remembered the posters. “Why do I love you?”

“White guilt?” she guessed as she took a photo.

He threw one of her brushes at her.

She ducked, laughing. Gathering him up into a tight hug, she pulled back, still holding him. “You know I love you, Nico.”

“I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you too.”

She smiled, wide, unflinching, before taking another step back. “Okay. A few more photos and then-”She bit her lip, taking him in. “-I’m gonna curl the shit out of it.”

He laid down against the desk. “You want me to do pin-up posing?”

She looked at him, wide-eyed. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Thank you, I do try.” 

She clapped her hands, grinning. “We’re gonna need some clothes!” She spun on her heels, headed for her fabric chest. Then she paused, turning to face Nico again. “You think Percy will like them?”

He flushed, his skin burning. “Goodbye.”

She laughed, taking another picture as Nico struggled to roll back up, his shirt riding up on him. “I think he’ll like them!”

Rolling off the desk and reaching for her, he snapped, “I’m sending you back to the Underworld.”

All she did was laugh in response, scampering out of his reach and throwing her phone down onto her bed. She turned and opened her fabric chest. “I want to do some with you actually. And I have some good fabrics for them.”

“If you send mine to Percy, you have to send yours to Frank.”

Pulling out a bunch of fabric, she laid them out and hovered her hands over top of them. They began twitching as she worked her magic through her body and out through her fingers. Her face was ducked and she was wide-eyed and smiling funny.

“I don’t think we need to do  _ that _ .”

“You’re basically married. He’s not allowed to see you cute?”

She scowled at him. “Alright, cracker boy-” He snorted at that one. “ _ -I _ will let you send selected photos to Frank  _ if _ you let me send selected photos to Percy. And the rest… will just be for us.” She grinned and a piece of fabric contorted into a chest wrapping, scraps falling to the side. Definitely for him. It was not curved enough otherwise. “This is gonna be fun.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He bounced on his heels. Excitement thrummed through his veins. Spending time with Hazel, especially post second war, was always fun. “Let’s do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> i love sibling bonding. and Hazel swearing.


End file.
